Broken Clockwork
by The Shards of Amarante
Summary: Sometimes too far is too far, and Harry is tired of being the scapegoat. They can all go burn and die for all he cares, because this time, he's not going to save them.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in it.

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**General Warnings:** AU, (most likely) GEN, language, Twin!fic, Wrong BWL, Smart!Powerful!Ravenclaw!Harry, Abusive!Dursleys, Bashing of a lot of characters

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**Summary:** Sometimes too far is too far, and Harry is tired of being the scapegoat. They can all go burn and die for all he cares, because this time, he's not going to save them.

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**Author's Notes:** I've been in a good writing mood lately. Anyways, this has been stewing in my head for a while, and I finally got it down on paper. I'm not entirely sure where I want to go with this though. Any thoughts? Should I continue it?

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**Chapter 1**

Hadrian James Potter had never been a normal boy. Some would even go as far to call him freakish. And it was true.

It wasn't just the fact that he was a wizard ― a honest-to-god magic-wielding wizard.

It wasn't the fact that he could talk to and control almost any reptile he put a mind to (though it worked particularly well on snakes).

It wasn't even the fact that he could remember anything and everything he laid eyes upon, from the moment of his birth to the present, and not even a memory charm could wipe it (a fact he had become aware of in his second year of Hogwarts, when he had confronted his Defense teacher about the inconsistencies in his books and promptly gotten an Obliviate for his troubles).

No, it was his unfortunate tendency to attract trouble, defeat said trouble, and then have the credit taken by a worthless wimp, while receiving some sort of unfair misfortune that, in his opinion, made him so unusual. Seriously, whose luck worked like that?

Defeating Voldemort in at the age of one: credit taken by his useless twin who had done nothing more than sit there and cry because of the scar left by their mother's wand when it had flew out of her hand as she had collapsed. Harry was sent to the magic-hating Dursleys while his oh-so-beloved brother was given to his godmother, who, by all rights, should have taken him in too.

Saving the Philosopher's Stone from Quirrell: credit taken by Daniel bloody Potter, the so-called Boy-Who-Lived, who had gotten to the mirror room nearly an hour after he had defeated Quirrell, covered him with his invisibility cloak (after finding out that it would burn him if he tried to steal it), and promptly left him and told Dumbledore (the fool) that he had been the one to defeat Quirrell. Harry had woken up almost two days later (he thanked and cursed the fact that there had been no classes, as it was after the end-of-term tests, and he had no friends, so no one had noticed him missing), aching and sore, and gone down after a nice bath to find that Gryffindor had stolen the House Cup from Ravenclaw due to Dumbledore's unjustly awarded points for the rescue the brat had not actually accomplished.

Stopping the petrifications: credit taken _again_ by the useless twin he was seriously considering disowning, who had eavesdropped on him when he had confronted Ginerva Weasley (who Luna, his newfound friend, had assured him was acting quite oddly that year, even taking into account the symptoms of homesickness) in the Myrtle's bathroom and stunned him from behind (like a bloody _coward_) after he had destroyed the diary that had been possessing her with Gryffindor's sword that Fawkes and the Sorting Hat had given him. Harry had woken up on the cold tile floor hours later to find a wailing Myrtle explaining how "the lying arse" had dragged Weasley out of the bathroom, woken her up in some abandoned dungeon (giving her the impression that he had rescued her) and taken her, the sword, and the Hat (though, according to Myrtle's gleeful smirk, Fawkes had refused to let him touch him and had disappeared in a flash of fire, leaving the bastard with a face full of soot) up to the old coot's office before proceeding to feed him some cock-and-bull story about how he had bravely set out to rescue Weasley alone after his friend, Ronald Weasley, had been accidentally knocked out by that incompetent, Lockhart, and how _he_ had heroically rescued Weasley and defeated Slytherin's monster ("a giant snake" were his exact words ― Harry had snorted; he had known it was a basilisk months ago; he was surprised it had taken Granger so long to figure out) and the evil spirit possessing Weasley with the sword that he had bravely pulled from the Hat. And later, Gryffindor had stolen the House Cup _again_ (_more_ last minute points), _and_ he had been given detention for attempting to "slander" a celebrity (Potter) by "spreading rumors" through an "already distressed ghost" (Myrtle). The only consolation had been that he had at least not been blamed for Lockhart's memory loss.

The year after that had, believe it or not, been the worst. He had saved all of them ― them being Sirius Black, Snape, and, as he had dubbed them, the Idiot Trio (because while Granger was good at academics, she really wasn't all that bright about real life, and Weasley and Potter weren't even worth mentioning for either) ― from an idiotic werewolf who really should have known better than to forget his Wolfsbane, driven off a hoard of Dementors (who, by the way, affected him a lot more than the others, seeing as he had an eidetic memory and his life was practically _made_ of bad experiences), and prevented the escape of one Peter Pettigrew. He had single-handedly ensured that Sirius Black would receive a fair trial with the new evidence brought to light instead of being swept under the rug, and that Lupin would not face any charges for putting students in danger (aiding Sirius Black was, at the time, a crime after all, not to mention running loose on the school grounds without his Wolfsbane), though he hadn't been able to do anything about his job. He had even gone through the trouble of buying Buckbeak off Hagrid and clearing him from all charges as a backup in case Sirius really was convicted. And who got all the credit? _Danny. Effing. Potter._

It was like clockwork. Did luck even work that way?

And how could they have believed that the other Potter had done all those things? They didn't even look alike ― how could anyone mistake them for each other? How hard could it be to tell the difference between Potter's neat, red hair and his messy, black hair? His squinty, hazel eyes and Harry's large, emerald eyes? His large, bulky body and his thin, scrawny body? Even if it was dark, it shouldn't have been hard to spot Potter's flaming red hair sprawled on the ground, the owner of said hair being as useless as always.

He had been so hopeful too. He had even gotten all the adoption papers drawn up. _Anyone_ was better than the Dursleys, even a man who had abandoned him to chase after a rat, and not even acknowledged his part in his exculpation. But then, he had had all his hopes shattered with a single word, spoken by the black-haired, grey-eyed man when confronted in a quiet corner about Hadrian James Potter.

"Who?"

He didn't even remember who he was. His own godson. Harry had hidden his sob behind a long-perfected mask, with the expertise of years of practice, of years of betrayal, of years of crushed hopes and broken dreams. And he had turned away.

"I apologize. I must have the wrong person."

And now, sitting at the very edge of the Ravenclaw's table, he vowed that this time, he wouldn't get involved. This time, he wouldn't let them take the credit. _This time,_ they could solve their bloody problems by themselves.

And, as if the universe was answering him, the Goblet flared crimson for the fourth and final time.

"Daniel Potter."

Harry looked over at the paling boy without a glimmer of pity. He watched him glance up at the unreadable headmaster and around at all of the stony faces. He watched the other Potter, who had made his life so miserable, _look over_, _as if he expected him to save him_, and sneered as the coward flinched back at the ice that stared back. He watched in satisfaction as the boy made his way up the dais and down the antechamber, his back slumping ever so slightly as he went.

This time, they could bloody well deal with their own problems. He wasn't going to help them. Not this time.

And beside him, Luna smiled.

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**Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything in it.

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**General Warnings:** AU, (most likely) GEN, language, Twin!fic, Wrong BWL, Smart!Powerful!Ravenclaw!Harry, Abusive!Dursleys, Bashing of a lot of characters (Dumbledore in particular)

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**Summary:** Sometimes too far is too far, and Harry is tired of being the scapegoat. They can all go burn and die for all he cares, because this time, he's not going to save them.

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**Author's Notes:** It's summer vacation and I've had an influx of random ideas that I'll likely never actually finish. But I got this done. :) It's not as interesting or eventful as the previous chapter but I think this would be a logical next step for Harry to take so bear with me.

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**Chapter 2**

It hadn't taken long for Harry to start planning again after Black had more or less rejected him. Adoption was nice of course, but when he had been looking for ways to legally never return to the Dursleys, after Dumbledore had completely brushed off his attempts to tell him of his home life with a self-assured, grandfatherly, "I'm sure your childish fight will have been forgotten by the time you return. They are your family after all! They love you very much" and Flitwick and McGonagall had more or less followed his example, his research had turned up another ― a _better_ ― option.

Emancipation.

At the time ― nearing the end of his first year ― he had not been able to file for it, because a magical child had to be minimally thirteen to attempt so. The only other option had been for Molly Weasley, his secondary godmother ― as Alice Longbottom, his primary godmother, was incapacitated, Sirius Black, his primary godfather, was incarcerated, and Remus Lupin, his secondary godfather, was a werewolf and forbidden by law to adopt ― to adopt him. And he would rather live on the streets (not that Dumbledore would let him and Harry knew it was best not to draw his attention for the moment) than live with _her_, seeing as she had rejected him ten years previously, claiming she had too many children as it was. Though, of course, she had had no trouble accepting his twin.

(Harry had looked Potter's godparents up too ― as it turned out, Molly Weasley was Potter's primary godmother, Alice Longbottom his secondary, Remus Lupin his primary godfather, and Sirius Black his secondary. Apparently it was tradition for magical twins to have four godparents: a primary godmother and godfather for each twin while the other twin's godparents acted as secondaries.)

So, seeing no other options, he had opted to wait for two more years until he was old enough to file for emancipation.

But then that Sirius Black fiasco had happened, and his requests for the paperwork had been pushed to the wayside as the Ministry and all of its departments dropped everything and ran around like headless chickens. Which, Harry thought, made no sense because what did the Child Service offices have to contribute to the Sirius Black hunt anyway?

And then, after all of that had been over, Harry had gotten adoption papers ― which were _much_ easier to get ahold of than emancipation papers ― all drawn up because _surely_ his godfather, a _primary_ godparent, not a secondary godparent like Molly Weasley, with no financial burdens or other responsibilities would be willing to adopt him right?

Wrong.

He should have expected it. When had he ever been right when it came to the good in people? Luna was an exception ― the _only_ exception ― because people disliked her too, so she was practically in the same boat that he was.

So, after a brief period of moodiness over the rejection of yet _another_ adult who was supposed to help him, he had reverted back to Plan A.

It wasn't too hard getting the papers, even though they were still scrambling around doing damage control from fallout of Black's trial, and arranging some tournament to raise publicity. In fact, it was downright easy getting it unnoticed in all the frazzled hustle and bustle.

It wasn't hard getting Petunia and Vernon to sign the emancipation papers either. One mention of how he would never have to set foot in their house again had them practically scrambling over each other to sign.

No, what was hard was getting the emancipation passed without notice. Because, apparently, Dumbledore, the interfering old codger, had his nose stuck everywhere.

"I'm sorry, my dear boy, but you are simply too young to be living alone." Blue eyes twinkled at him over the top of his half moon spectacles. "And I'm sure your relatives would miss you dearly if you left."

Harry had seethed silently. What right did that meddlesome old coot have to interfere with _his_ life? With _his_ guardianship? What did _he_ know about the Dursleys anyway? _He_ wasn't the one that had to live with them! _He_ wasn't the one that had to put up with living in a cupboard and food only once every three days, and lashings and beatings when they were bored, and sizzling frying pans to the head if he did anything less than perfect or if he did better than that fat pig he refused to call his cousin! And if the scars on his body weren't already proof enough, then that postscript they had written on the emancipation paper should have made it more than clear that they wanted nothing to do with him!

But he couldn't voice all of that. He wasn't a blind idiot like most of the wizarding world seemed to be. He knew Dumbledore would simply wave it all off like he had done before. Dumbledore only cared for his Greater Good after all, and having poor little Harry Potter happy and well didn't further his plans at all ― the opposite, in fact. Happy and healthy meant he would have no leverage over him, seeing as he had never taken the time to get to know Harry. No way of controlling him meant that he was an unknown, a wild card. A taboo for the power-hungry puppetmaster. No, it would better to keep him downtrodden and pliable and easily manipulated. That way, he would always be grateful to Hogwarts, as his home and sanctuary. And when he was actually needed, Dumbledore would simply pull a few strings, and swoop down and act like a savior who had just discovered the _horrid_ treatment his relatives had bestowed upon him and rushed to save him, thereby gaining his everlasting gratitude. Add in the remorseful grandfather act that Harry was sure Dumbledore was all too capable of playing, and any other abused victim would be all but tripping over themselves to dance to his tune.

Harry had wanted so dearly to tell him he and his plans could go fuck himself, but Dumbledore clearly wasn't going to take no for an answer, and Harry had never been in the habit of laying down all his cards on the table, especially when the opponent clearly still had some.

So he nodded and played the part of the shy little boy who wasn't quite sure what he had been thinking and Dumbledore had smiled benevolently with a triumphant twinkle in his eye, offering him a lemon drop before assuring him that _he had already taken care of withdrawing the paperwork_ and dismissing him from his office.

Harry fumed. And plotted, and planned. Because the Sorting Hat had wanted to place him in Slytherin for a reason, and he wasn't going to give up just because some meddlesome old fossil had twinkled at him and told him 'no'. _Hadrian James Potter_ was no idiotic doormat that would just _lay down_ and let those power-hungry madmen _trample_ all over him. He would just find another way.

And so he did.

The very next weekend, after securing Luna's promise to cover for him, he had snuck out to Hogsmeade fr hm a secret passageway in a humpbacked stone witch that he had found on one of his nighttime wanderings (being an insomniac ― courtesy of Vernon, as continuously dragging a child from his cupboard for a good beating in the middle of the night when one was unable to sleep or drunk, he had discovered, tended to leave a child often unable to sleep for fear of a meaty hand coming out of the darkness to grab him ― left him with a lot of free time to explore the huge castle). He had stolen a bit of Floo powder from Madam Rosmerta ― he _loved_ his invisibility cloak ― and borrowed Aberforth's fireplace for a trip to Gringotts.

It went off without a hitch; something for which he was thankful for. The goblins were surprisingly helpful as well, though that may have had something to do with the fact that once he was emancipated, the Potter vaults could be opened and the money within used to invest, putting more money in circulation, and allowing them to earn more gold. His subtle hints about the investments he was planning didn't hurt either. For all their bloodthirsty ways, the goblins weren't stupid ― they knew a business opportunity when they saw it. And the fact that both parties harbored a strong dislike for Albus Dumbledore ― the goblins mostly because of the amount of gold the Dumbledore family had lost from Dumbledore's foolish, non-profitable ventures some seventy years ago before he had smartened up and just stopped investing his gold whatsoever, and Harry for obvious reasons ― was just icing on the cake.

The scars from the Dursleys were documented, filed, and the Dursleys were declared to be unfit guardians within a few hours.

This still left the risk of leaving him, seeing as Molly Weasley and Sirius Black had already rejected him, as a ward of the state or Ministry. Luckily, a bit of digging into one of the goblins' obscure treaties with wizards revealed a handy little law (benefiting purebloods of course) stating the heirs to a House with an absent or deceased head were allowed emancipation anytime after turning thirteen. Generally, this was only done when the heir had no willing guardian (being paid off didn't count ― which was unnaturally clever of them. Typical of the government to be unusually strict and thorough when it came to their own interests) and no person they trusted enough to designate as a temporary representative. This law had been allowed to prevent heirs and their houses from losing their family names and fortunes and to placate the goblins, who had lost several vaults of gold because some bumbling politician had taken all of a ward's gold for a campaign of some sort.

Harry ― and he had never been so grateful that at least one thing in his life had gone right, even if it was just the mere fact that he, and not his twin, had been born first (and who knew what kind of state of the Potter family would be in a few years had Potter been born first) ― had no qualms taking full advantage of this law. And, best of all, all of the paperwork was filed at Gringotts and Gringotts only, so Dumbledore would never even get a whiff of it.

As further insurance, he had the Dursleys disowned from the family line. Apparently, even underage heirs ― not that he was one anymore ― were allowed to disown family members if said members were muggles and/or squibs. Now, Dumbledore could not claim that he had to stay with them, as they were family ― disowned members didn't count as family.

Harry had turned over the idea of disowning his twin as well. He had more than enough justification after all, even if he had no way to prove it. Not that a head of house really needed to have justification to disown anyone anyway ― it was just advised as so the head wouldn't look oppressive or insane.

But he had decided against in the end. It was better to keep him under the mantle of the Potter house for now, even if that meant he would be somewhat obligated to look out for him ― or, at least, deposit a small allowance in his personal vault every month. As his head of house, Potter would be obligated to obey him to a certain degree. And it wasn't as if Potter had any chance of taking the family headship from him anyway, unless Harry was incapacitated or Potter challenged him to a duel and won ― and Harry never had any intention of losing to someone like him. And even in those cases, it would be a toss up to see if the family ring thought him worthy enough to wear it (he doubted it).

It never hurt to have insurance though, he thought as he filled out the necessary paperwork to put Potter on probation. Now, all it would take to disown Potter would be three taps on the family ring he wore on his finger and a voice-activated command. Best of all, both Potter and Dumbledore would be none the wiser for any of his or their changed statuses ― Potter because head of houses had the right to keep probations a secret as so to be able to observe the subject without fear of irregular behaviour and Dumbledore because his high-and-mighty behaviour towards magical creatures had done him no favors in gaining their support and lost him any chance of spreading his influence into Gringotts.

Harry smirked as he strode out of Gringotts, family ring invisible on his finger and invisibility cloak over his head. Things were finally going his way for once. He couldn't wait until his next scheme bore fruit.

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**Notes:** Do you think I should make Harry go to another school? Because honestly, what idiot would stay at a school with sub-par teachers and subjects? Snape, Binns, Trelawney, Hagrid ― he never finished his education and has no sense of proper topics so he counts as sub-par ― are all horrible teachers. And at least three ― I count DADA because of the constantly shifting teachers, many of whom are incompetent (I mean, if there's a curse that prevents the teachers from staying more than a year in a row, why not just hire two or three of them and rotate every year?) ― out of the seven core subjects have bad teachers, Astronomy is essentially useless (or, at least, they never really seem to have any purpose in canon), and three ― Divination, CoMC, and Muggle Studies (it's useless, I believe, if people like Arthur Weasley, who have taken it, are still saying 'fellytone' and 'eclectic'. That and because it's taught by a pureblood, Charity Burbage, who likely has never actually experienced Muggle life. I could be wrong.) ― out of the five electives are either useless or badly taught. In my opinion, Hagwarts is a terrible school. Not to mention the rampant bullying and all the dangerous things and manipulations they run into over the years. A troll, a _basilisk_, a werewolf (with nobody making sure he was actually drinking his Wolfsbane), a mass murderer, a dragon... Do all of the characters in canon have a death wish or something? I would have been gone by second year. Hogwarts isn't the only magical school in the world.

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